


My Life is a Cheesy B-Movie and Sometimes I Hate It

by diamondthighs



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Abnosome, Crack, Explicit Language, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-08
Updated: 2014-06-07
Packaged: 2017-12-18 03:56:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/875346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diamondthighs/pseuds/diamondthighs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A grossly exaggerated not!fic inspired by a true story about two best friends who meet a group of singing British celebrities they previously knew nothing about and now want to shag.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic and it is written in email format, very similar to Meg Cabot's "Boy Meets Girl." That was a fun book, and it was the first time I read something written that way, so I recommend that series. This really is inspired by a true story (I'll let you guess at the truth, but it's probably not what you think). Forgive the crappy title too. I couldn't think of one but I wanted to post it already! 
> 
> Disclaimer: I wouldn't be writing 1D fics if I owned them. And I am in no way affiliated to InStyle. They just happened to be the nearest magazine at the time I wrote this.

From: Diana Ellwood <diana.ellwood@instylemag.com>  
Sent: Friday, April 05, 3:29 PM  
To: Crystal Callahan <crystal.callahan@instylemag.com>  
Subject: HEY

Get on IM. NOW.

\- DJ

 

 _CrystalClear has signed on._  
 **CrystalClear:** u need to get a new phone. surely u saved up enough by now  
 **DJellwood:** Unfortunately not. YOU need to correct your spelling. I mean, it is what you do for a living.  
 **CrystalClear:** exactly. i copyedit at least 40 hours a week. horrid text speak at work is my way of rebelling against the system  
 **DJellwood:** Whatever you say.  
 **CrystalClear:** so what do u want? rachel's making her rounds and remember the trouble we got in last time for chatting during work hours?  
 **DJellwood:** Rachel’s too busy smothering Ethan with her new boob job.  
 **CrystalClear:** first of all, ew. second of all, isn’t that some form of sexual harassment? he should file a complaint.  
 **DJellwood:** Ethan isn’t important right now. I am. And I need a time machine. STAT!  
 **CrystalClear:** done. what is it for?  
 **DJellwood:** I need to go back in time and figure out exactly where my life went horribly wrong.  
 **CrystalClear:** be more specific because horribly wrong applies to so many aspects of ur life  
 **DJellwood:** Shut up.  
 **DJellwood:** Do you know that group One Direction?  
 **CrystalClear:** nope  
 **DJellwood:** Google them. Rachel alert. I’ll email you.  
 _DJellwood has signed off._  
 _CrystalClear has signed off._

 

From: DJ Ellwood <dianajaneellwood@hotmail.com>  
Sent: Friday, April 05, 6:48 PM  
To: Crystal Callahan <itscrystalclear@hotmail.com>  
Subject: One Direction

Did you Google them? Are you currently up to date? Good. 

So you know how when I really like something, I talk about it nonstop for weeks to the point where you have to force me to shut up? And likewise, when I really hate something, I always criticize it, sometimes even unfairly? One Direction’s always been in that very large neutral zone right in between. See, they’ve always been flying under my radar. I hear them on the radio or I stumble upon an article on the Internet by accident, but I don’t particularly care. You’d know if I did; one way or the other.

But I dunno, lately they’ve been getting more and more of my attention, you know? And they shouldn’t! They’re a boy band that teenagers drool over. I am not a teenager, and I’m definitely not into boy bands. At least not anymore. That phase died with N*Sync’s career. And yet I’m finding myself dancing along to "Kiss You" in the middle of the night. 

Please, send help.

\- DJ

 

From: Crystal Callahan <itscrystalclear@hotmail.com>  
Sent: Friday, April 05, 6:53 PM  
To: DJ Ellwood <dianajaneellwood@hotmail.com>  
Subject: Re: One Direction

Can I just say that those five boys are like sex on legs? 

Now I’m just waiting for the cops to bust open my front door and arrest me for pedophilia. Because they may be sex on legs, but they obviously still haven’t hit puberty yet. Seriously, they’re 12 years old. 

Crystal

 

From: DJ Ellwood <dianajaneellwood@hotmail.com>  
Sent: Friday, April 05, 9:30 PM  
To: Crystal Callahan <itscrystalclear@hotmail.com>  
Subject: Re: Re: One Direction

That is all you have to offer? I am well aware of how attractive they are. But I’ve seen them before and I never thought they were good-looking! Now I just want to pounce on them. Any of them. ALL OF THEM. It’s like I’ve reached that pre-menopausal stage that turns women into cougars. It doesn’t help that actually seeing them in person sets your hormones on fire. No wonder their fans are crazy. 

-DJ

 

From: Crystal Callahan <itscrystalclear@hotmail.com>  
Sent: Friday, April 05, 9:31 PM  
To: DJ Ellwood <dianajaneellwood@hotmail.com>  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: One Direction

I’m sorry. Are you implying that you've seen them in person? 

Crystal

 

From: DJ Ellwood <dianajaneellwood@hotmail.com>  
Sent: Friday, April 05, 9:31 PM  
To: Crystal Callahan <itscrystalclear@hotmail.com>  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: One Direction

You infer correctly.

\- DJ

 

From: Crystal Callahan <itscrystalclear@hotmail.com>  
Sent: Friday, April 05, 9:33 PM  
To: DJ Ellwood <dianajaneellwood@hotmail.com>  
Subject: ARE YOU KIDDING ME

YOU DIDN’T THINK TO LEAD WITH THAT? INSTEAD YOU MAKE IT AN AFTERTHOUGHT? YOU COULDN’T HAVE GONE “HEY, CRYSTAL, GUESS WHAT? I JUST SAW THE FIVE HOTTEST GUYS ON THE PLANET AND NOW I WANT TO FUCK THEIR BRAINS OUT LIKE A HORNY RABBIT!”

GIVE ME THE DETAILS AND DON’T YOU DARE SPARE A SINGLE ONE. I WANT TO KNOW IF THE DIMPLES ON THAT CURLY-HAIRED SEX GOD IS AS DEEP AS THE CRATERS ON THE MOON.

Crystal

 

From: DJ Ellwood <dianajaneellwood@hotmail.com>  
Sent: Friday, April 05, 9:43 PM  
To: Crystal Callahan <itscrystalclear@hotmail.com>  
Subject: Re: ARE YOU KIDDING ME

Four hours ago, you didn’t even know who they were. Now you’re as crazy as the fans that practically tackled those guys to the ground. 

So you know how I came in late last week? That was because I spent the whole evening typing up the articles Harper lost, you know the ones? It felt good, though. I mean, this was what I went to college for! To write. Not to proofread all the articles by those “senior writers” and editors. It’s like peer review in English 101 all over again. 

But I digress. And I can only imagine you’re pulling your hair out right now wondering when I’ll get to the juicy parts. It’ll come, my friend. Patience.

Because I was up all night and because my life is a cheesy B-movie filled with all those dumb clichés and TV tropes, my alarm didn’t go off and I was asleep for a good ten minutes extra. It was blissful… until I woke up. I was frantically scrambling around my apartment trying to put on clothes and brush my hair and my teeth all at the same time. Once I managed that—Sonic the Hedgehog would be proud at how fast I was—I started running to work.

Then a part of me suddenly had an intense craving for some hot chocolate. Like an insatiable need. So in I went to the Starbucks just a few blocks away from the office and lined up. I was already late. Might as well walk in the office equipped to face the wrath of Rachel Wright with a delicious drink (seriously, that’s Starbucks’ only salvation, as far as I’m concerned).

I had my drink and a hot fresh scone in my hand when I bumped into this guy, effectively spilling said drink down the front of his shirt. Oops. I hastily started mopping him up with some napkins and my hand—his white shirt was soaked; I couldn’t resist, and this guy certainly had some respectable abs and an _endless_ torso—when I heard a shrilly shriek pierce the air. Turns out the guy was your curly-haired sex god.

Now we were surrounded by a crowd of girls screaming while I was still trying to apologize (and keep my hands on him). His name’s Harry, I believe. And he practices polygamy because all those girls were proposing to him and he said yes to a couple of them. There was another guy with him too, and he had stubble and a quiff that would make any ‘50s starlet swoon. Or 22-year-old copy-editors. Did I mention they both had tattoos?

Anyway, when I finally made it out of that death trap, I headed to the office, where I was chewed out by “The Wright-eous Rachel” for being late. And since I didn’t have my precious drink with me, my mood and my day was at an all-time low. Even an appearance by those ridiculously attractive pop stars couldn’t get me out of my funk.

Until I got home later that night and found myself actually listening to that one song of theirs on the radio. And then proceeded to create a YouTube playlist that was on repeat all night. Their songs are catchy. I’m actually liking this group. Do you see my dilemma?

\- DJ

P.S. Moon craters? Try the Mariana Trench. 

 

From: Crystal Callahan <itscrystalclear@hotmail.com>  
Sent: Friday, April 05, 10:00 PM  
To: DJ Ellwood <dianajaneellwood@hotmail.com>  
Subject: I hate you

For someone who types a million words per minute, you replied awfully slowly. I was THIS CLOSE to marching over to your apartment and prying the story out of you. 

But I guess we don’t need a time machine since we know exactly where your life went “horribly wrong.” It was last week at the Starbucks a few blocks away. By the way, thanks for waiting this long to tell me this. While your life is a cheesy B-movie, mine’s been one boring documentary that teachers play in high school and no one pays attention to. My life makes people sleep, Di. This is a serious problem. 

But seriously, spilling coffee on a hot guy? A hot guy who also happens to be a world-famous celebrity? That shit doesn’t happen in real life. 

And I see your dilemma. Tattoos and stubble. It’s Zayn, isn’t it? He does look like the kind of guy who gets your panties wet. You probably wanted to jump his bones right then and there. Or swim in those delectable dimpled cheeks of Mr. Styles. 

God, why don’t these things happen to me? I’d like to spill coffee on Ryan Gosling, bring him home, clean him up and then get dirty with him. If you know what I’m saying ;)

Crystal

 

From: DJ Ellwood <dianajaneellwood@hotmail.com>  
Sent: Friday, April 05, 10:07 PM  
To: Crystal Callahan <itscrystalclear@hotmail.com>  
Subject: No you don’t

How many glasses of wine have you had so far?

I know it doesn’t happen in real life. That’s why it’s taken me this long to even say anything. I couldn’t believe it happened. And I was going through some serious introspection because I shouldn’t be this bothered by that encounter, but I am. And I’ve been going into that Starbucks every day since in the hopes of running into him again, this time without the misfortune of spilled drinks and screaming fans.

\- DJ

 

From: Crystal Callahan <itscrystalclear@hotmail.com>  
Sent: Friday, April 05, 11:21 PM  
To: DJ Ellwood <dianajaneellwood@hotmail.com>  
Subject: Youre right I LOve yo

Glassesof wne? ZERO.  
Shots of vodkkkkaa? more thn zer0.

Loko you’re a beautifyl girl. Don’t givvveu p. keep goin to Starbcuks, getin his pants. Because YOUU need to get laaid. LOL teh leterRs look funnyyyyyyygfhbybgyyfybyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyvvvvvhhhhhhhhhhhttttttttttttttttttttttyyyyyyyyybgbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb yyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy yyyyttttt7777fffffffffffgggggggggggggggggggggggggggjghhhhhhhjhhhhhhhhhhhjbbbbbbbb yyyyyyyyyyyyygyb bbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbybbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbtttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttt

Crystal

 

From: Diana Ellwood <dianajaneellwood@hotmail.com>  
Sent: Friday, April 05, 11:35 PM  
To: Crystal Callahan <itscrystalclear@hotmail.com>  
Subject: You’re wasted

You fell asleep on your computer, didn’t you? I’m amazed you even managed to send that email. You are a lightweight drinker, and you went straight for the heavy stuff. Good job. Have fun with your hangover tomorrow. Love ya.

\- DJ

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The character of Crystal is loosely based on my best friend, who is literally my muse. I love you biffle! Also, formatting this story was a bitch.
> 
> Let me know what you think! Criticism, constructive or otherwise, is screened and filtered by my brain that translates it to high praise. Thanks, brain ;D


	2. Chapter 2

From: Crystal Callahan <itscrystalclear@hotmail.com>  
Sent: Saturday, April 06, 01:49 PM  
To: DJ Ellwood <dianajaneellwood@hotmail.com>  
Subject: KILL ME

I HAVE KEYBOARD SQUARES PERMANENTLY ETCHED ON MY FACE, AND A MIGRAINE LIKE YOU WOULD NOT BELIEVE.

I’M USING MY BEST FRIEND FAVOR. PLEASE SHOOT ME AND END MY SUFFERING.

Crystal

 

From: DJ Ellwood <dianajaneellwood@hotmail.com>  
Sent: Saturday, April 06, 1:52 PM  
To: Crystal Callahan <itscrystalclear@hotmail.com>  
Subject: Re: KILL ME

Good morning, sleepyhead!

I am ignoring the Best Friend Favor, because I know if I do shoot you, you’ll regret it and haunt my ass forever. So save it for when you really need it. It’s a one-time deal that we both have to honor. You don’t want to waste it on this. Instead I’ll just do you a regular favor. I’ll be there in 10 minutes to play nurse. I’ve even got a cute little outfit to go with it.

\- DJ

 

From: Crystal Callahan <itscrystalclear@hotmail.com>  
Sent: Saturday, April 06, 2:01 PM  
To: DJ Ellwood <dianajaneellwood@hotmail.com>  
Subject: Re: Re: KILL ME

THANK YOU. And please leave the outfit. Use it for someone who’d appreciate it. Like the Sex God when you nurse his first-degree burns.

Is that you knocking? Right on schedule. And Jesus Christ Superstar, don’t be so heavy-handed next time! It’s like you’re hitting my brain with a hammer.

Crystal

 

From: Diana Ellwood <diana.ellwood@instylemag.com>  
Sent: Tuesday, April 09, 10:28 AM  
To: Crystal Callahan <crystal.callahan@instylemag.com>  
Subject: The Deity of First-Degree Burns

Forgive the vague subject heading. I thought putting in Sex God would get the guys at IT curious. 

I went to Starbucks again for another hot chocolate (look at me, a regular at Starbucks! And I don’t even like coffee). I was walking out the front door, ready to chalk up today as another failure, when who did I bump into but Curly Tattoo and Quiff Tattoo. Don’t ask me to use their real names. It’ll feel like I’m actually interested in them instead of their bodies. 

And in addition to gracing my life with their presence, they brought reinforcements. The blond Irish was with them, and I had the weirdest and strongest instinct to breastfeed him on the spot. That kid is all levels of adorable. I’m not even joking. And now I’m as sexually frustrated as ever.

\- DJ

 

From: Crystal Callahan <crystal.callahan@instylemag.com>  
Sent: Tuesday, April 09, 10:30 AM  
To: Diana Ellwood <diana.ellwood@instylemag.com>  
Subject: Re: The Deity of First-Degree Burns

YOU’RE sexually frustrated? I’M the one living this fantasy vicariously! Now I am BEGGING you to share. 

Crystal

 

From: Diana Ellwood <diana.ellwood@instylemag.com>  
Sent: Tuesday, April 09, 10:34 AM  
To: Crystal Callahan <crystal.callahan@instylemag.com>  
Subject: Re: Re: The Deity of First-Degree Burns

Nothing that interesting happened, really. Curly Tattoo made a joke about me having to come with a warning sign. “Caution: Hot” he said, and Ireland laughed like it was the most hilarious thing in the world. I have to give Curls props. That was a pretty original pick-up line. I’m surprised he remembered me, though. I thought that with the legions of females throwing themselves at him, the girl from Starbucks would be long forgotten.

But let me tell you, hearing British accents in real life is infinitely sexier than hearing it on TV. 

I really do need to get laid.

\- DJ

 

From: Crystal Callahan <crystal.callahan@instylemag.com>  
Sent: Tuesday, April 09, 10:42 AM  
To: Diana Ellwood <diana.ellwood@instylemag.com>  
Subject: Caution: Hot Girl

That is who you are to them. Caution: Hot Girl. You are Hot Girl. He thinks you are hot. 

HE THINKS YOU ARE HOT.

Here’s my advice: Next time you run into him at Starbucks, you slip him your email address. It's not as sexy as a phone number but you don’t have a phone. Don't you now wish you had a phone?

And you have NO idea how great a need it is for you to get laid. It’s like The Quest for the Holy Grail. Well, maybe not that difficult. Sure, you’re still a virgin, but these boys have made you sluttier than me. And I’m pretty slutty.

Crystal

 

From: Diana Ellwood <diana.ellwood@instylemag.com>  
Sent: Tuesday, April 09, 10:53 AM  
To: Crystal Callahan <crystal.callahan@instylemag.com>  
Subject: Re: Caution: Hot Girl

The goal here is getting IN his pants, not 100 feet away from them due to a restraining order. Also, I’m perfectly happy without a phone. Slipping him my email address would be fine. Besides, what if it turns out he’s the crazy one? I've read those articles. That guy is a womanizer. I don’t want my life to turn into 50 Shades of Gray. 

Maybe I should just strip Ireland of his innocence. 50 Shades doesn’t look so bad anymore…

\- DJ

 

From: Ethan Myers <ethan.myers@instylemag.com>  
Sent: Tuesday, April 09, 10:58 AM  
To: Crystal Callahan <crystal.callahan@instylemag.com>; Diana Ellwood <diana.ellwood@instylemag.com>  
Subject: ?

What was that ungodly cackle about? I thought the old hag from Snow White was here selling poison apples. I know you two are responsible so don’t even bother lying to me. 

Ethan Myers  
InStyle Magazine 

 

From: Crystal Callahan <crystal.callahan@instylemag.com>  
Sent: Tuesday, April 09, 11:00 AM  
To: Ethan Myers <ethan.myers@instylemag.com>  
CC: Diana Ellwood <diana.ellwood@instylemag.com>  
Subject: Re: ?

No poison apples. Just Diana deciding to channel Christian Gray. She already has two potential victims in mind. Let’s celebrate tonight. Drinks are on me so no backing out. I’d tell you to bring your girlfriend but it sounds like Rachel’s got an appointment to get her back waxed. I always thought you did that for her.

Crystal

 

**@djellwood:** @emyers and I are making a solemn vow to ignore @CrystalClear for the rest of our lives.  
 **@CrystalClear:** @djellwood god, Diana, really? twitter? i thought you had a passionate dislike for social networking sites.  
 **@djellwood:** @CrystalClear Wrong friend. It's Donna who hates Twitter. I’m ignoring you again.  
 **@CrystalClear:** @djellwood the guy knew i was just joking about you being a closet dominatrix!  
 **@CrystalClear:** @emyers please tell @djellwood the guy knew it was a joke. pass it on.  
 **@djellwood:** @emyers You'd think English majors would know the definition of "ignore." Huh.  
 **@CrystalClear:** @djellwood two can play at this game  
 **@CrystalClear:** @Harry_Styles @djellwood is Caution: Hot Girl from Starbucks. she wants to screw u six ways til sunday. in the best way.  
 **@djellwood:** That’s it. I’m packing my bags and moving to Alaska. But not before I arrange for my supposed best friend’s accidental death.  
 **@emyers:** @djellwood @CrystalClear I am soooo confused right now.

 

**The Confidential Journal of Diana Jane Ellwood**

God, I haven’t written an actual entry in this book in YEARS. But I need to get some things off my chest. Normally I would talk to Crystal, but I’ve made it my personal mission to shun her until the day she dies. (Let’s be real, though, I’ll probably start talking to her again tomorrow.) Therefore, little journal, you’re all I’ve got.

It all started earlier this evening after we got out of work. Ethan claimed to be permanently traumatized from the mental picture of him waxing Rachel’s hairy back, and he chose to ignore Crystal because of it. He spent the whole evening talking only to me, until he met a busty blonde whose number he was trying to get. Poor guy, it took him an hour to get her digits, only to find out they were fake.

Then Crystal started working on her second margarita of the night, which meant she was shitfaced. And shitfaced Crystal thought it would be funny to tell a stranger—who, I might add, looked like a very creepy pervert with a string of rapes and assault under his belt—that I “secretly enjoyed tying up men and women, whipping them, and calling them dirty names.” I'm pretty sure he took her seriously because he spent the rest of the night dropping anvil-sized hints about him liking S&M.

To top it all off, she just tweeted Harry Styles and revealed my identity to him. I can only hope that the flood of mentions he gets on a daily basis washes hers away. And Crystal can only hope that my hands don’t happen to find their way around her throat.

 

**The Confidential Journal of Diana Jane Ellwood**

No such luck.

Guess who got a new follower on Twitter.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And the elusive Harry Styles finally makes an appearance in this chapter!

From: Crystal Callahan <crystal.callahan@instylemag.com>  
Sent: Wednesday, April 10, 9:08 AM  
To: Diana Ellwood <diana.ellwood@instylemag.com>  
Subject: Harry

Are you guys privately sex-tweeting each other?  
You are, aren’t you? That’s why you haven’t spoken to me.

Crystal

 

From: Crystal Callahan <crystal.callahan@instylemag.com>  
Sent: Wednesday, April 10, 9:24 AM  
To: Diana Ellwood <diana.ellwood@instylemag.com>  
Subject: Shagalicious

Come on, I did you two a favor. He obviously wants to shag you too.

Crystal

 

From: Crystal Callahan <crystal.callahan@instylemag.com>  
Sent: Wednesday, April 10, 10:41 AM  
To: Diana Ellwood <diana.ellwood@instylemag.com>  
Subject: Hello

You can't ignore me forever.

Your best friend

 

From: Crystal Callahan <crystal.callahan@instylemag.com>  
Sent: Wednesday, April 10, 12:30 PM  
To: Diana Ellwood <diana.ellwood@instylemag.com>  
Subject: Warning

I know your Twitter password. If you don’t respond, I’m hijacking your account and sending him the raciest tweets you can ever imagine.

Your best friend who is an expert hacker

 

From: Crystal Callahan <rystal.callahan@instylemag.com>  
Sent: Wednesday, April 10, 1: 14 PM  
To: Diana Ellwood <diana.ellwood@instylemag.com>  
Subject: I did it

No, I didn’t.

I'm sorry. _I mean it._ If you continue ignoring me, I’m gonna commit suicide in the lunch room.

Your best friend who now has suicidal tendencies

 

From: Crystal Callahan <crystal.callahan@instylemag.com>  
Sent: Wednesday, April 10, 2: 18 PM  
To: Ethan Myers <ethan.myers@instylemag.com>  
CC: Diana Ellwood <diana.ellwood@instylemag.com>  
Subject: Por favor

Gather up all the guys' neckties for me, please? I have a super secret special project I need to do.

Crystal

 

From: Crystal Callahan <crystal.callahan@instylemag.com>  
Sent: Wednesday, April 10, 2:20 PM  
To: Ethan Myers <ethan.myers@instylemag.com>  
Subject: Really?

Did you _really_ have to yell NO like that? You're literally three desks away from me. You couldn't have walked up to me? Sent me a memo? A paper airplane? A smoke signal? Now everyone thinks you're crazy, dude. Congrats. You're now the Office Nutjob. Everyone will talk about you for the rest of their lives. "Hey, do you remember that Crazy Guy from the Office? He sure was crazy for yelling out of the blue like that. He sure needed help, and I sincerely hope he got it."

Crystal

 

From: Crystal Callahan <crystal.callahan@instylemag.com>  
Sent: Wednesday, April 10, 3:48 PM  
To: Diana Ellwood <diana.ellwood@instylemag.com>  
Subject: (no subject)

Despite the many obstacles I faced, I made it to the end. Tell Ben and Jerry that I'm sorry... and I love their strawberry cheesecake with all my heart.

Goodbye, cruel world.

Your about-to-be-no-more best friend

 

 **@Harry_Styles:** @djellwood Thanks to you, I have coffee-related PTSD.

 

From: Crystal Callahan <itscrystalclear@hotmail.com>  
Sent: Wednesday, April 10, 8:13 PM  
To: DJ Ellwood <dianajaneellwood@hotmail.com>  
Subject: HARRY FUCKING STYLES

HE JUST SENT YOU A TWEET. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, REPLY TO HIM.

Crystal

 

From: H. Styles <harrystyles1d@modestmanagement.com>  
Sent: Thursday, April 11, 1:39 AM  
To: DJ Ellwood <dianajaneellwood@hotmail.com>  
Subject: Hi

I don’t normally do this, but your friend seemed very convinced that we were both long overdue for a good shag. Her words exactly. To be honest, I can live with the PTSD. I just wanted an apology from you. You ruined my favorite shirt :(

Harry S.

 

From: Diana Ellwood <diana.ellwood@instylemag.com>  
Sent: Thursday, April 11, 11:24 AM  
To: Crystal Callahan <crystal.callahan@instylemag.com>  
Subject: REALLY?!

Diana Ellwood  
InStyle Magazine

 

From: Crystal Callahan <crystal.callahan@instylemag.com>  
Sent: Thursday, April 11, 11:30 AM  
To: Diana Ellwood <diana.ellwood@instylemag.com>  
Subject: REALLY!

;D

Crystal

 

From: DJ Ellwood <dianajaneellwood@hotmail.com>  
Sent: Thursday, April 11, 7:34 PM  
To: H. Styles <harrystyles1d@modestmanagement.com>  
Subject: Sorry…

…for both the shirt and my friend. Can I make it up to you somehow? I can buy you a new shirt. Or I can buy myself a new friend. Whichever works.

(You don’t normally write to girls who’ve spilled coffee on you? So I’m the first? I feel special.)

\- Diana Ellwood

 

From: H. Styles <harrystyles1d@modestmanagement.com>  
Sent: Thursday, April 11, 9:16 PM  
To: DJEllwood <dianajaneellwood@hotmail.com>  
Subject: Re: Sorry…

Thanks for the offer, but nothing can ever replace that shirt. It’s the only one of its kind, you see, because it was the one I wore when I first saw you. As for your friend, she’s very entertaining and I’d hate for you to give that up. Besides, I predict that we’ll be thanking her very soon.

I may be a world famous celebrity, but I’m not demanding. I won’t ask for much in terms of repayment. Just dinner. With you. This Saturday.

Harry

 

From: DJ Ellwood <dianajaneellwood@hotmail.com>  
Sent: Thursday, April 11, 11:35 PM  
To: H. Styles <harrystyles1d@modestmanagement.com>  
Subject: Dinner

See, you’ve just posed a problem. So the shirt I ruined has now become a limited edition, one of a kind shirt because you wore it when we met. If we had dinner, you’d be wearing different clothes. You’d fall in love with me and ask to go on more dinner dates, and out of the goodness of my heart, I would agree. So then you’d be wearing even more clothes, thus lessening the value of the original one-of-a-kind shirt. It’ll just be normal clothes! I don’t think I can handle ruining it all over again.

\- Diana

 

From: H. Styles <harrystyles1d@modestmanagement.com>  
Sent: Thursday, April 11, 11:42 PM  
To: DJ Ellwood <dianajaneellwood@hotmail.com>  
Subject: Re: Dinner

There’s a perfectly easy solution to that, love. I’ll just wear The Shirt every time we go on a dinner date, effectively increasing its original value.

Shall I pick you up at 8?

Harry

 

From: DJ Ellwood <dianajaneellwood@hotmail.com>  
Sent: Friday, April 12, 12:04 AM  
To: H. Styles <harrystyles1d@modestmanagement.com>  
Subject: Re: Re: Dinner

See you at 8, lover boy.

\- Diana

 

**The Confidential Journal of Diana Jane Ellwood**

DID I JUST WRITE LOVER BOY? I JUST WROTE LOVER BOY. I CALLED HIM LOVER BOY. SMOOTH, DIANA.REAL SMOOTH.

OMG I want to tell Crystal but I don’t want to give her the satisfaction of being right, so I’m just gonna let her stew in her guilt for at least until after my date with Harry. I just wrote that. My date with Harry. I have a date with Harry Styles. This is actually happening. The cheesy B-movie that is my life is actually paying off for once!

Shit shit shit what am I gonna wear? What am I gonna do? My online persona and my actual in real life persona are completely different. Bipolar-ishly different. I’m gonna be an awkward bumbling idiot during dinner. I just know it. I’ll freeze up and stutter and look stupid and he’ll realize the whole thing was a total waste of time and then he’ll tell the other guys all about The Worst Date in the History of His Life and I’ll be a laughingstock amongst One Direction and this time I will really have to pack my bags and move to Alaska. Shit.

I’ll cancel. I’ll email him back and say my cat died and he was my favorite cat and I just had to hold an elaborate funeral for him and I’m too emotionally damaged at the moment to go on a date. Yeah, that sounds good. Except he’ll probably email Crystal and she’ll tell him I don’t really have a cat and that I’m actually just sitting on my couch watching my shows on Netflix while I eat all the contents of my fridge. He’ll probably come right over to my apartment and then he’ll see what a slob I am. Shit. Fuck. Shit shit fuckity fuck shitballs of fire.

Maybe I should get a cat.

SHIT! He doesn’t even have my address! I need to ~~tell him~~ NO. I WON’T. This is the solution. He doesn’t know where I live so he can’t find me and pick me up and we won’t have to go on our date. And if he asks for my address, I’ll just give him the wrong one. Problem solved.

 

From: H. Styles <harrystyles1d@modestmanagement.com>  
Sent: Friday, April 12, 12:31 AM  
To: DJ Ellwood <dianajaneellwood@hotmail.com>  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Dinner

I was gonna ask for your address, but I thought you’d just end up giving me the wrong one, so I asked Crystal instead. She had some advice for you, but I think it’s better if you got her words exactly because I don’t know how to paraphrase this.

>DIANA JANE ELLWOOD, I EXPECT A FULL REPORT IN MY INBOX SATURDAY  
>EVENING, POST-DINNER DATE! DON’T DO ANYTHING I WOULDN’T DO SO  
>EVEN THOUGH CURLY-HAIRED SEX GOD SEDUCES YOU WITH HIS DIMPLES  
>AND TATTOOS YOU RESIST HIM OKAY? PUT UP THAT WALL AND GUARD  
>YOUR SPECIAL LADY AREA BUT KEEP HIM COMING BACK FOR MORE! BE A  
>SLUT, JUST NOT MY LEVEL OF SLUT. LIKE ON A SCALE OF 1 TO 10, WITH ME  
>AT AROUND 6, BE A 3 OKAY? OR A 4. AT MOST, 5.

Curly-Haired Sex God sounds like a fantastic nickname. But I prefer yours.

Lover Boy

 

From: Diana Ellwood <diana.ellwood@instylemag.com>  
Sent: Friday, April 12, 8:23 AM  
To: Crystal Callahan <crystal.callahan@instylemag.com>  
Subject: Unbelievable

You’re absolutely unbelievable. I am appalled that you would betray your best friend in such a manner! Would you seriously just give him my home address like that? What if it wasn’t Harry? What if it was a serial killer who targets young women that live alone? What if it was the creepy pervert from the bar come to see if I really was a dominatrix? You could have killed me! I could be dead right now, lying in a pool of my own blood with my guts spilling out. Thanks a lot.

\- DJ

 

From: Crystal Callahan <crystal.callahan@instylemag.com>  
Sent: Friday, April 12, 8:31 AM  
To: Diana Ellwood <diana.ellwood@instylemag.com>  
Subject: Re: Unbelievable

You're very welcome! It’s great to hear from you again! And please, of course I did a background check and cavity search on the guy before giving him your address. I may be stupid at times, but never THAT stupid.

Now tell me, what are you gonna wear? We should totally go shopping after work and splurge on a fabulous new dress. Preferably one with a very short hem and that shows off a lot of cleavage. Your boobs are kind of small, but that’s okay because Victoria’s Secret is a lady’s best friend. I want him to drown in a puddle of his own drool when he sees you.

I’m so excited! Are you?!

Crystal

 

From: Diana Ellwood <diana.ellwood@instylemag.com>  
Sent: Friday, April 12, 3:29 PM  
To: Crystal Callahan <crystal.callahan@instylemag.com>  
Subject: Re: Re: Unbelievable

I’m out of here as soon as that clock strikes six. I don’t care if we still got work. No one’s stopping me. Not even our tyrannical boss. Maybe we can go to that new boutique downtown? And I am pretty excited. VERY excited. But also very nervous. I ran to the bathroom five times today to throw up. Martha actually thought I was having morning sickness and congratulated me on the pregnancy.

\- DJ

 

From: Crystal Callahan <crystal.callahan@instylemag.com>  
Sent: Friday, April 12, 4:11 PM  
To: Diana Ellwood <diana.ellwood@instylemag.com>  
Subject: LOL!

Silly Martha. Doesn’t she know that you actually have to go on a date first? But hey, I get dibs on congratulating you first when Styles knocks you up. I will spoil that adorable, dimpled baby like the amazing godmother I know I will be.

By the way, I’m glad to have you back. Ethan just can’t cut it as my best friend. He does get a B for effort for his mild enthusiasm during this week's Men Who Should Be the Father of My Babies. The man of the week is Chris Hemsworth. I can send you my notes and a copy of the PowerPoint presentation if you want.

Crystal

 

From: Diana Ellwood <diana.ellwood@instylemag.com>  
Sent: Friday, April 12, 4:16 PM  
To: Crystal Callahan <crystal.callahan@instylemag.com>  
Subject: I missed you too

And I'm bummed I missed this week's discussion on MWSBTFOMB. Thor can hammer me any time.

\- DJ

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: That obviously isn't Harry's email address...


	4. Chapter 4

**The Confidential Journal of Diana Jane Ellwood**

There is a total of ten hours left until my big date with Harry, and my anxiety levels have not decreased. I’m lying in bed staring at the dress Crystal and I bought yesterday. It seems she knows exactly where we’re going tonight, and she’s chosen to keep it a surprise. Judging from the outfit, I can only assume it’s… well, frankly, I could make many assumptions and they could all be wrong. It’s not like the dress was as specific as, say, an 80’s disco outfit. Instead I got a black sundress with sheer lace insets at the neck and waist and an open back. Cute, but not exactly an open book about tonight’s plans. It does eliminate some possibilities like ice skating or cliff diving. She also advised me not to wear heels. That could be a clue. But that could also be because I always end up twisting my ankle when I wear those things. Honestly, how do girls do it? I can barely stand in them for five minutes. And they walk so effortlessly while I end up looking like I'm waddling on hot coals and glass shards. I don't care how good it makes the butt and legs look. It's cruel and unusual punishment.

Crystal should be here soon to do my hair and makeup. I may work at a fashion magazine, but both those things are lost on me.  And I just have no patience in the morning to do any of that. I’d rather get some extra sleep, thank you very much. I've tried watching those YouTube tutorials but I somehow end up in like JennaMarbles' video about how to put on makeup while drunk. Now THAT'S educational. And entertaining.

I think she’s here. I can hear footsteps in the hallway outside. Plus, I can feel the air shifting. It's like all the molecules in the atmosphere can sense her presence and literally start shivering with fear. Or maybe that's just me.

 

**The Confidential Journal of Diana Jane Ellwood**

Two hours left. I had to kick Crystal out of my apartment because there is no way in hell I’m letting her meet Harry in real life while she’s on cloud nine over her “delightfully accurate matchmaking skills.” I'm almost positive she would have locked us in my apartment and made us do that thing I read in a book once where a couple would stay in a room for days without leaving, and they used that time to get to know each other emotionally (and physically I suppose because almost all the couples were naked). There's a term for that. What was it? Well, whatever it was, I certainly wouldn't mind doing that with ~~Harry~~ ~~Curly-Haired Sex God~~ ~~Lover Boy~~ Styles.

Plus Crystal was being extra chatty and giving me tips for tonight. I may not have gone out on many dates—just one and it was many years ago. Shut up, Journal. You’re not supposed to judge me—but I’m almost sure I know how to act during one. I’ve read Cosmopolitan's expert tips. And Tiger Beat.

All this anxiety is making me sweat, and I’m now sitting here in front of my fan to cool me down. Maybe I’ll pop in a romantic comedy. I’m in the mood for some "She’s The Man".

 

**The Confidential Journal of Diana Jane Ellwood**

Thirty minutes left. It doesn’t help that I’ve reached the point of the film where Viola finally revealed she was a girl and is now playing in the big game against Cornwall. I know how this movie ends (happily, like all romantic comedies) but I’m so amped up because Viola is doing her shit and getting it done, even though she thinks Channing Tatum probably hates her. Don't lose sight of your dream, Viola! Soccer balls before Duke's balls! Besides, he totally doesn't hate you. He's just angry at himself because he shoved one of your tampons up his nose, in front of you. There's an innuendo in there somewhere, I know it. 

 

**The Confidential Journal of Diana Jane Ellwood**

Five minutes left. Deep breaths, Diana. You’ll be awesome. Ignore the fact that he’s one of the hottest in-demand celebrities of the century. He’s a regular fella just like anyone else. You’re cool. You got this. If Viola can be a man, play soccer and get the guy, then so can you. Get the guy, that is. Not being a man and playing soccer. Although I’m sure you’re perfectly capable of doing that and yeah maybe you're not exactly coordinated and you'd probably get hit in the face but you know what you're awesome and you can do this and you'll have fun tonight and HE'S HERE

 

From: Crystal Callahan <itscrystalclear@hotmail.com>  
Sent: Sunday, April 14, 2:34 AM  
To: DJ Ellwood <dianajaneellwood@hotmail.com>  
Subject: WELL?!

HOW DID IT GO? I WANTED A FULL REPORT, YOUNG MISS, AND I WANT IT **_NOW_**.

Unless of course you’re currently having some mind-blowing orgasms, courtesy of your tall, dark and handsome love monkey, in which case please ignore me and resume with the fornication!

Also, I’m now fully expecting the report to become a blow-by-blow description of the night, a literal pornographic work of art. Like my puns.

Crystal

 

From: Crystal Callahan <itscrystalclear@hotmail.com>  
Sent: Sunday, April 14, 3:38 AM  
To: DJ Ellwood <dianajaneellwood@hotmail.com>  
Subject: I’m waiting…

You know what you’ve reduced me to? Google Images.

What am I Googling? One Direction (and all things related therein such as fanart, fanfiction, “manips”, etc.)

Based on my research, I have determined several things:

  1. Directioners have the most imaginative and sexually frustrated minds in the world.
  2. Your boyfriend was a cow in another life. I’m not kidding. Did you know he has four nipples? Squeeze them and see if milk comes out.
  3. Larry Stylinson is seriously fucked up… yet strangely erotic. I can’t decide if I hate it or love it.
  4. Niall can have me anywhere and any way he wants.
  5. And frankly, so can Zayn.
  6. Hell, even Liam. Have you seen those pictures of him as Batman? I want to rename my vagina The Batcave and make him live there.
  7. Louis Tomlinson is a blue-eyed Adonis and I want him. I deserve happiness in the form of a British boy band pop star, too.
  8. He also has a stupid name. Change that “s” to an “e” already and stop confusing everyone.
  9. Still, imagine shouting his name in the throes of passion. It’s like a classy French porno. “Oh, _Monsieur Louis_! Just like zat! _Oui, oui!”_
  10. He and Harry should reenact that scene in real life. Maybe then I’ll find out how I feel about Larry Stylinson. I'm leaning towards love.



 Crystal

 

From: Crystal Callahan <itscrystalclear@hotmail.com>  
Sent: Sunday, April 14, 4:09 AM  
To: DJ Ellwood <dianajaneellwood@hotmail.com>  
Subject: YOU ARE KILLING ME

Don’t leave me hanging, you sadistic bitch. You know how much I hate cliffhangers! So PLEEEAAASSEEE peel yourself away from Harry’s miraculous torso, away from his stupid tattoos, and away from his sculpted arms to your laptop. I’m sure it must be very difficult to leave the warm nest of his body, but your best friend is literally dying of suspense, and the only way to save her is to write the smut. NOW.

Crystal

 

From: H. Styles <harrystyles1d@modestmanagement.com>  
Sent: Sunday, April 14, 5:33 PM  
To: DJ Ellwood <dianajaneellwood@hotmail.com>  
Subject: The Date

I know what you’re thinking, but I had a great time with you last night. We’re only in town for a few more days, and then we’re flying back to the UK. But I’d love to see you again. Maybe next time we can just skip all the formalities and go straight to the nudity. It’ll give us more time to have fun.

Lover Boy

 

From: DJ Ellwood <dianajaneellwood@hotmail.com>  
Sent: Sunday, April 14, 6:39 PM  
To: H. Styles <harrystyles1d@modestmanagement.com>  
Subject: Re: The Date

Don’t tell me you’re psychic as well. I don’t need any more reasons to hate you. And contrary to what _you’re_ thinking, I’m not gonna be the girl you dated and fucked once upon a time. You’re not screwing me over, literally or figuratively.

\- DJ

P.S. Unbelievably, I had a great time with you too.

 

From: H. Styles <harrystyles1d@modestmanagement.com>  
Sent: Sunday, April 14, 6:43 PM  
To: DJ Ellwood <dianajaneellwood@hotmail.com>  
Subject: Ooh la la

I love it when you talk dirty to me.

So is that a yes, then? Because if you thought last night was great, then I can show you positively remarkable.

Lover Boy

 

From: DJ Ellwood <dianajaneellwood@hotmail.com>  
Sent: Sunday, April 14, 10:21 PM  
To: H. Styles <harrystyles1d@modestmanagement.com>  
Subject: Re: Ooh la la

Don’t make promises you can’t keep.

\- DJ

 

From: Crystal Callahan <itscrystalclear@hotmail.com>  
Sent: Sunday, April 14, 11:55 PM  
To: DJ Ellwood <dianajaneellwood@hotmail.com>  
Subject: When I see you...

I am skinning you alive.

Crystal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have way too much fun writing Crystal.
> 
> And she'd appreciate it if you left some comments about what you think of the fic. Don't leave her hanging, or she'll bust out the hard liquor and then end up in Mexico plotting with a gang over how best to kidnap Niall. Save Niall. Leave a review!


	5. Chapter 5

**CrystalClear:** u cruel bitch i went over to ur apt yesterday and u were gone  
 **DJellwood:** I was out the whole day, running errands! Sorry.  
 **CrystalClear:** liar! u were totally avoiding me  
 **CrystalClear:** i know u want to keep the details to urself but pls give a girl a break here  
 **DJellwood:** It’s a really long story. But I’ll email it to you. I promise. In fact, I’m typing it out right now.  
 **CrystalClear:** u better or i will waterboard u until u speak. and make it good! spare not a single fact  
 **DJellwood:** Did you not have your morning cup of coffee today or what? You are extra cranky this morning.  
 **CrystalClear:** GEE I WONDER WHY???!??!?  
 **CrystalClear:** it’s both. the coffee pot in the lunch room broke and U STILL AREN’T TYPING MY STORY  
 _RachelWright has signed on._  
 **RachelWright:** Ladies, must I inform you both again of our company policies on chatting during work hours?  
 **CrystalClear:** I was just asking Diana for copies of today’s markups.  
 **RachelWright:** In this instance, let’s say I believe you.  
 **RachelWright:** If I see you both online again, I’ll keep you here until midnight to make up for lost time. Am I clear?  
 **DJellwood:** Yes.  
 **CrystalClear:** Crystal.  
 _RachelWright has signed off._  
 **CrystalClear:** she really is a slot  
 **DJellwood:** Do you mean that in a good way…?  
 **CrystalClear:** i mean that in the worst way! puns are not fun when u have to explain them, di. keep up with me please  
 **DJellwood:** Sorry. Brain’s running slow today. But I get it. Slot… slut…  
 **CrystalClear:** that wasn’t my best pun but come on u were supposed to be the smart one in this duo  
 _RachelWright has signed on._  
 _CrystalClear has signed off._  
 _DJellwood has signed off._  
 _RachelWright has signed off._

 

From: Diana Ellwood <diana.ellwood@instylemag.com>  
Sent: Monday, April 15, 12:39 PM  
To: Crystal Callahan <crystal.callahan@instylemag.com>  
Subject: The Date

I am skipping my lunch break for you. I hope you’re happy. You have forced me to sit at my cubicle and pretend I’m hard at work, all because you had to bother me on IM.

So about the date, it really isn’t as exciting as you’ve imagined it to be. First of all, I should clarify that there was no sex. Seriously, what do you think of me? This was the first date! I am not a one-night-stand kind of girl. BUT we came really close to it, though. So. Many. Times.

At promptly 8PM Saturday evening, he knocked on my front door. I opened it up and lo and behold, he was wearing The Shirt! The very same shirt I spilled coffee on the first time we met! There was a big faded stain on his front, and he still looked as glamorous as ever. It’s kind of unfair. But I will admit that at that point, I was already more than willing to drag him to my bedroom. Or my living room. I would have done him in my doorway with my neighbors watching, to be honest. All he had to do was ask, or snap his fingers, or blink twice for yes.

Sadly, he didn’t do any of those things. And instead of retreating into the privacy of my apartment, we headed outside to where he parked his car. He drove a ridiculously expensive vehicle, and he probably expected me to be impressed but I totally wasn’t (I kind of was). Thankfully I live in a fairly shoddy neighborhood full of people who don’t care about teen pop stars so we made it out of there without any incident whatsoever. We headed to a local pizzeria, one of those hole-in-the-wall types that usually have amazing food. This did not disappoint. The food was spectacular. I’d always seen this place, and I think I’ve mentioned it to you a couple of times. Remind me to take you there sometime. So there we were, eating and talking and joking around. He is the biggest flirt I’ve ever met. I feel like his experience with dating older women paid off—yes, I did my research. Luckily for me, Google had a bit more info on him than the other two guys I’ve dated. But I managed to hold my own against him and flirted right back, all while keeping up the Great Wall of China on my lady parts. You’d have been proud of me.

After dinner, we bought some snacks and drove down to the park where they show those black and white movies on a big screen. That’s when I knew the level of involvement you had in our date. You told him, didn’t you? You told him about my ideal first dates and how my absolute favorite would be watching a movie outdoors a la Jennifer Lopez and Matthew McConaughey in The Wedding Planner. I both abhor and love you for it. He even had a tree all nice and set up for us, and a packet of M&M’s. “I can give you the brown ones if you like,” he told me in his perfect accent. He was like my own British McConaughey, and believe me, British McConaughey is sexier than regular normal McConaughey. My willingness to do the dirty deed with him had jumped up about three levels.

I’d only watched the first part of the movie, because I found myself distracted by his hands. They were all over me, but not in the way you’re imagining it. He just slipped them around my waist, and then later started to rub them lazily down my back. I now know how cats feel when you pet them. I’m pretty sure I was purring. We ended up on the grass then, and he laid his head on my lap. Running my fingers through his luscious mane of hair is possibly the greatest thing ever. It was like touching silk. And sometimes he let out this hum of pleasure that got me practically shivering with delight. I was now an inch away from disregarding social behavior in public settings and tearing off both our clothes.

We somehow made it through the whole movie—I still have no idea what we watched—and as we were walking back to the parking lot, he got recognized by a fan. Then somehow they multiplied, and we suddenly found ourselves being chased by a whole mob of screaming girls with their cameras and phones flashing away at us. Bonus: he had literally grabbed my hand and told me to run. In that split second, I had fantasies of adventures in the TARDIS with him as the Doctor and me as his young and attractive companion. And that was when I discovered I had roleplaying kinks. And I wanted to experiment with them first on him.

So we were running down side streets and alleyways, hands linked as he pulled me along. We finally found a safe spot away from them, at a little courtyard that had a lovely fountain. We were absolutely lost at this point, but we didn’t really care. Adrenaline was coursing through our veins, and it caused the two of us to become dangerously close, physically speaking. Our lips had just been about to touch, when I realized what was happening.

I don’t know what was running through my mind, but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t kiss him. I was sure I had garlic breath from the pizzeria and chunks of M&M shells stuck between my teeth. It just didn’t feel right yet. So I took a step back…. And I tripped on god knows what and fell back towards the fountain. Because we’d both still been holding hands, I dragged Harry down with me, effectively soaking us both in water. Talk about clichés.

We sat in the water for a good ten minutes, laughing until tears were rolling down our cheeks. He had looked like a normal, carefree guy then. And it was a good look on him. And a large portion of the Great Wall of Vagina came crumbling down.

Eventually, we got out and started heading back in the direction we came. We were both shivering and dripping wet, but we huddled together for warmth. We came across a Laundromat during our walk. Since it was empty of people and there didn’t seem to be a living soul around on the streets (it literally felt like a ghost town, granted it was almost midnight but still), we went in and used their dryer. Yes, that meant the two of us stripped off our clothes so that we were only in our underwear. Thank god I went for something sexy tonight and didn’t do granny panties. That would have been mortifying.

I never thought I would have lived to see the day when Harry Styles would strip down in front of me. I felt like the gods took mercy on my soul for all my previous misfortune and sent me this heavenly piece of ass. He was perfect, even if the tattoos on his torso looked like a weird face. Up close it was beautiful. Then he asked me, “How is it that my clothes always seem to get ruined when we’re together? But I will admit I like this solution a lot.”

“It’s all part of my elaborate ruse to get you out of your clothes,” I told him. “Granted, the bit where we were chased by your fans was pure luck.”

And he flashed me those fucking dimples and I almost wet myself. Then he stepped towards me and softly said, “And now that you’ve gotten me out of my clothes, why don’t you show me what the next part of your plan was?”

At this point I was completely flabbergasted. My body was so ready to tackle him to the ground (do you see the recurring theme of sexual frustration here?) but my mind wanted to remain flirtatious and mysterious and play hard-to-get. It was the most intense internal battle I’ve ever had in my life. If we were in an actual cheesy B-movie, Bump ‘N Grind would have been playing right then and there. My mind’s telling me no, but my body…

But I was spared from answering because the person who worked there appeared from whatever other dimensional plane she had previously been hiding in to tell us that if we “wanted to fuck each other like rabbits during mating season, to kindly not do it where she can see because the sight of us makes her want to projectile vomit on our faces.”

Such a sweet girl. I’m sure she’d go places.

We didn’t do much after that because the girl kept us under constant scrutiny. I wondered if she recognized Harry, but she didn’t seem to care one way or the other. Once our clothes were all dried up, we started figuring our way back to the park where we left his car. We talked a lot on the way about different things, some of them heavy—like dreams and aspirations—and some of them light and funny—like embarrassing moments. I learned a lot about him, and it was really nice to have such a genuine conversation with him and to be able to know the guy behind the fame.

Sigh.

We somehow managed to find his car again, and at this point, it was well past two in the morning. There were still a couple of girls who were lingering around the area, maybe hoping for him to show up and get his car back. I told Harry to remain hidden while I distracted the girls. First I slinked away to another corner and then I channeled my inner movie actress.

I walked up to the girls, looking both excited and terrified at the same time, and then told them in an urgent but quiet manner that I saw Harry walking a few blocks over with some girl. “They look lost, and if you guys go right now, you might be able to spot them!”

Call up whoever hands out the Oscar awards, because all those girls started following my fake directions. Once it was all clear, Harry stepped out and we hurriedly got in his car and drove away, laughing the whole time. He dropped me off at my place and walked me to my door. Cue the awkward tension. I felt him wanting to kiss me, and I wanted to kiss him back so much. But I knew that if I did give in to that, all my inhibitions would fly out the window. And that wouldn’t be good.

So I mustered up all the ladylike aura I knew I had within me and instead offered a simple handshake. But then I realized too late that it was such a business-casual thing to do and I felt like a dignified lady escort, and he laughed at me. He laughed at me. And I was about to pull away and run into my apartment and hide in my bedroom for the rest of my life, but he pulled me close and he whispered in my ear, “Good night, beautiful.”

Then he left, and I swear I saw him shining under the hallway’s horrid fluorescent lighting like a fucking Disney prince. And I spent the rest of the night in a kind of blissful state. Honestly, it still feels kind of surreal, like it didn’t happen. Because like you said, shit like this doesn’t happen in real life. Crystal, am I a Disney princess?

He asked me out again. He wanted to see me before he left to go back to London. I don’t know if I should say yes or not. I don’t know what this is or even where it’s going, if it’s going anywhere. Help?

\- DJ

P.S. What in the world is a Larry Stylinson? Is he like a sixth member that no one knows about because he’s just a complete and utter embarrassment and so they just keep him inside and hidden at all times?

P.P.S. I have a whole bunch of emails from Twitter of people following and mentioning me. I am legitimately afraid of that site now.

 

From: Crystal Callahan <crystal.callahan@instylemag.com>  
Sent: Monday, April 15, 2:47 PM  
To: Diana Ellwood <diana.ellwood@instylemag.com>  
Subject: Re: The Date

Wow.

Wow.

Wow.

Okay, first of all, I have no clue what you mean by telling him about your ideal dates. I totally forgot about your obsession for The Wedding Planner. It’s not like we watch it every time we have a girls’ night at your place. Second of all, I would have jumped his bones the minute I spotted The Shirt. So good for you for resisting that. On the scale of sluttiness, you’ve managed to be between 2 and 3.

Thirdly, stop questioning yourself. Sometimes good shit happens to bad people, but then once in a blue moon, amazing shit happens to fantastic people and you, my dear precious innocent young friend, got luck yon this blue moon. Just treasure it and stop looking this gift horse in the mouth.

Fourthly, Larry Stylinson is the fusion of your boyfriend with my blue-eyed Adonis. And I’m not talking about mashing them up to create a more perfect male specimen. I’m talking about Harry and Louis having a hard-on for each other. There are people out there who genuinely believe this is a real thing. These two boys are in love with each other, even though Louis’ got a girlfriend and you’re dating Harry. But you know what, after all those fanmade videos and fanfiction I slugged through last night while waiting for you, I am not ashamed to admit I stand behind those girls. Yeah, I can get with Larry Stylinson. You should too. We’ll just take Niall and Liam.

Finally, I most definitely recommend agreeing to see that man one last time. You can figure out where it goes from here on out. But I think you should, without a single doubt in my mind, make sweet, sweet love to him. Like even the Boyz II Men would burst into tears at how sweet you guys are making love to each other, then they’ll make a part two of their song and it’s just them crying.

Damn I need caffeine inside of me right now.

Just like you need Harry inside of you.

Crystal

 

From: DJ Ellwood <dianajaneellwood@hotmail.com>  
Sent: Monday, April 15, 8:04 PM  
To: H. Styles <harrystyles1d@modestmanagement.com>  
Subject: Part Two

Let me know when you’re available for another date. Maybe this time around I can show you what the next part of my plan was. Hint: it does involve nudity.

Also, it was a sweet gesture, but you don’t have to bring The Shirt anymore. I know you’ve got a reputation to uphold and walking around with a stained shirt doesn’t help.

\- DJ

 

From: H. Styles <harrystyles1d@modestmanagement.com>  
Sent: Monday, April 15, 11:17 PM  
To: DJ Ellwood <dianajaneellwood@hotmail.com>  
Subject: Re: Part Two

Come to our show tomorrow, you and Crystal. I’ll take care of the tickets. And then maybe afterwards, we can talk about your plan.

If wearing The Shirt meant having a date with you, I would wear it all the time.

Lover Boy

 

From: DJ Ellwood <dianajaneellwood@hotmail.com>  
Sent: Monday, April 15, 11:20 PM  
To: H. Styles <harrystyles1d@modestmanagement.com>  
Subject: Re: Re: Part Two

Alright, I’ll talk to Crystal. And be careful. If you say stuff like that, people are gonna think you’re whipped.

\- DJ

 

From: H. Styles <harrystyles1d@modestmanagement.com>  
Sent: Monday, April 15, 11: 21 PM  
To: DJ Ellwood <dianajaneellwood@hotmail.com>  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Part Two

And if I am?

Lover Boy

 

From: DJ Ellwood <dianajaneellwood@hotmail.com>  
Sent: Monday, April 15, 11:25 PM  
To: Crystal Callahan <crystalclear@hotmail.com>  
Subject: Um

It seems we’re going to the One Direction concert tomorrow. Also, Harry may have just confessed he likes me. I’m off to ponder. Let’s talk tomorrow.

\- DJ

 

From: Crystal Callahan <crystalclear@hotmail.com>  
Sent: Monday, April 15, 11:32 PM  
To: Isabel Callahan <isabelmalik4ever@freemail.com>  
Subject: ONE DIRECTION

This is your lovely big sister writing to inform you that I’m meeting your boyfriends at their concert tomorrow. Feel free to suck my dick.

Crystal

 

From: Isabel Callahan <isabelmalik4ever@freemail.com>  
Sent: Monday, April 15, 11:34 PM  
To: Crystal Callahan <crystalclear@hotmail.com>  
Subject: I HATE YOU!!!!!!!!!!

I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU SO MUCH!!!!!!!!!!!! YOU DON’T EVEN LIKE ONE DIRECTION!!!!!!!!!!!! HOW IS THIS EVEN HAPPENING!!!!!! OH MY GOD PLEASE TELL ZAYN THAT IL OVE HIM SO MUCH AND I WANT TOMARRY HIM AND GIVE HIM MY NUMBER AND MY EMAIL ADDRESS ANDTELL HIM TO FOLLOW ME ON TWITTER PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE!!!!!!!!

Isabel Malik

 

From: Crystal Callahan <crystalclear@hotmail.com>  
Sent: Monday, April 15, 11:40 PM  
To: Isabel Callahan <isabelmalik4ever@freemail.com>  
Subject: No

Go to sleep. And tell Mom I said hi.

Crystal

_This is Crystal! I can't come to the phone right now but leave your name and number and I'll get back to you as soon as possible. Unless you're a telemarketer of some sort, then just give up. And if this is Barry, I swear I will file a restraining order against you. (beep)_

Crystal, this is your mother. Are you still dating that tiny man with the glasses? Why do you need a restraining order against him? No, you know what? It is too late for this. Your sister just burst into my room crying about some kind of wand erection. That is inappropriate language for a 13-year-old! You may have some weird fantasies about that Harry Potter, but you're crossing the line. Will you be coming home for the summer? Maybe Izzy and I can visit you. Call me soon. I love you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was excruciating to write, okay? I even spent a whole night researching about copyediting. The person in charge of the department who usually hands out the assignments is called a slot. That's your fun fact for the day.
> 
> Also, that last bit was a special shout-out and a bit of an inside joke for my best friend. Thanks for tolerating all my uninspired weirdness and crying about celebrity guys and stuff. 
> 
> By the way, how awesome was Best Song Ever?


	6. Chapter 6

**CrystalClear:** i am so excited for tonight! i told izzy i was going to their concert and she freaked!  
 **DJellwood:** Why do you torment your little sister like that?  
 **CrystalClear:** it’s how we show our love okay? now what are u wearing  
 **DJellwood:** I don’t know. Clothes?  
 **CrystalClear:** oh really??? i thought u were gonna make a dress out of cheese  
 **CrystalClear:** of course ur wearing clothes but what kind  
 **DJellwood:** I don’t know! Can we concentrate on the fact that Harry might actually like me?  
 **CrystalClear:** of course he likes u! why wouldn’t he like u? ****  
DJellwood: I mean, I teased him about being whipped, and he said “And if I am?”  
 **DJellwood:** How do I respond to that?  
 **CrystalClear:** u take it to the next level tonight  
 **CrystalClear:** by wearing the sexiest dress u possess so that u can rip it off after the concert and have ur way with him  
 **DJellwood:** As much as I like that option, I doubt it will help. I guess we’ll just see where it goes.  
 _E_Myers has signed on._  
 **E_Myers:** Am I imagining the influx of twitter mentions I have from one direction fans?  
 **CrystalClear:** well hello mr. myers. fancy seeing you here. and don’t worry i got a bunch of them too  
 **DJellwood:** I had to stop the email notifications. It kept clogging up my inbox.  
 **E_Myers:** They’re all asking me if I like one direction, if I’ve ever met them, and how is it that you two know harry styles  
 **DJellwood:** What did you say, Ethan?  
 **E_Myers:** No, no, and I don’t know  
 **CrystalClear:** that's my boy  
 **E_Myers:** Ok there are girls asking if I’m single and leaving me their phone numbers  
 **CrystalClear:** babe ur either being catfished or are about to be on an episode of how to catch a predator  
 **CrystalClear:** either way there’s nothing but a hairy old man waiting for you at the end of this ride  
 **E_Myers:** Please do not involve me in your crazy drama  
 **CrystalClear:** this is more of an afternoon soap opera than anything else  
 **DJellwood:** And it also happens to be my life, thank you very much. And neither of you are helping.  
 **CrystalClear:** look just calm down and talk things over with him tonight  
 **CrystalClear:** if u want to actually have a relationship, great. if not, shag him while u can. at least get something out of this  
 **E_Myers:** Is this about that harry? And what’s going on tonight?  
 **CrystalClear:** oh u poor unfortunate soul, let’s go grab some coffee and i’ll update u

 

**The Confidential Journal of Diana Jane Ellwood**

I have to go to work in about four hours but I can’t fall asleep because of everything that happened tonight. I can still hear the echoes of the guys’ voices in my ears. It’s like an angelic alarm clock.

The concert itself was fun, even though we were surrounded by a screaming crowd of tween girls. There were actual parents chaperoning their kids. You could pick them out in the crowd because they were the ones who weren’t jumping up and down and crying. But we chatted with a couple of girls and it turns out that not all of them were hormone-driven like I expected. I’d still like to take this moment to remind myself to be restrained when mentioning sexual innuendos and the like around these young children. It’s best not to encourage the corruption of their innocence, even though judging by the signs they held some of them were beyond saving.

The guys were fantastic live, and they were very entertaining. I haven’t been to many concerts, but they definitely ranked near the top. Crystal, on the other hand, was just as enthusiastic about them as any other fan. She kept screaming for Niall and Louis, and some parents nearly had security kick us out because she was on the verge of being highly inappropriate.

She had her chance later that night, much to my embarrassment. Harry told us to stick around after the concert so we kind of just lingered by the stage while he and the boys spoke to some fans with VIP tickets and a couple of press. After that, a security guard led us backstage to their dressing rooms. It was such a surreal experience, because a few weeks ago, I didn’t know who they were. Then I found myself listening to their music nonstop, and now there I was, backstage with One Direction. I know I keep saying it, but this shit just does not happen to me. Maybe I was Mulan in a past life. I saved China from the Huns and now I'm being rewarded for it by being able to bask in the presence of five attractive British bachelors.

And mother of god, if stunning good looks could kill, those guys would be sentenced to life in prison for genocide. Or whatever appropriate punishment there is for that crime. It’s like an assault on the senses when they’re all standing together like that. All coherent thought flew out of my brain, and I’m pretty sure I started grunting like a cavewoman when they introduced themselves to Crystal and me. And that Irish vanilla latte called me the Hot Girl from Starbucks! If I could have somehow consumed concrete blocks, moved it through my large intestine towards my rectum, I literally would have shat bricks.

The crew started clearing out of the venue so the boys invited us out for drinks at some high class, VIP-only club. I think I saw Ryan Gosling, which I told Crystal about, resulting in her temporary disappearance and subsequent disappointed return. Turns out Gosling was there, but he’d left before my dear friend could forcefully get him to inseminate her.

Because she’d missed her chance to make him her baby daddy, Crystal started drinking. And a drunk Crystal is a dangerous Crystal. She turned all her attention on Niall and Louis and, bless their hearts, they took her sexual advances in great stride. Louis was such a good sport, and Niall just laughed like she was the most entertaining thing in the world. She tends to be, after ingesting any drink with more than 1% alcohol. Meanwhile, Harry was trying to get me someplace where we could talk and be alone but I didn’t want to leave my best friend. “The boys have got her covered,” Harry spoke in my ear. “It’s not her I’m worried about,” I told him. I mean seriously, was he not aware of what she was capable of? If I didn’t keep an eye on her, she’d probably be jumping out of someone’s car trunk right now, naked and singing Mambo No. 5.

Harry and I didn’t get a chance to talk until after I managed to strap Crystal safely into the passenger seat of my car (a feat in and of itself). Even then, our conversation was very brief because his “mates” were all anxious to get back to their hotel before we were spotted by the media hounds. He invited us over again—“I would really like to experience the nudity part of your plan,” he smirked—but I was responsible for Crystal and I couldn’t abandon her even though I desperately wanted to. She owes me her firstborn child for this.

He leaves for the UK later today, so I doubt I’d be seeing any more of him. And thus ends our spring fling, little Journal. It was fun while it lasted, even though his quest for my Holy Grail ended in apparent failure. My future children with my future anonymous husband will hear all about how they almost had a British pop star for a father. A tragic romance for the ages.

 

From: Crystal Callahan <crystal.callahan@instylemag.com>  
Sent: Wednesday, April 17, 8:49 AM  
To: Editorial Department  
Subject: A Favor

Hello and good morning, my dear colleagues. I sincerely hope everyone is faring better than I am today. What ails me, you ask? Last night, I indulged in some pleasantries for which I must now suffer the terrible consequences. Therefore I humbly beg you, my fellow linguistic warriors, to keep the noise level in our work environment at the barest of minimums. If I must be verbally addressed, please do so with the gentlest of whispers.

I appreciate your understanding and accept your sympathies.

Your friend,

Crystal Callahan  
InStyle Magazine

 

**CrystalClear:** i fucking died last night diana. I am dead.  
 **CrystalClear:** tell me. are the bright lights in here hellfire or the holy light of the lord  
 **DJellwood:** Neither. Just our good ol’ sun.  
 **CrystalClear:** oh well that’s nice  
 **CrystalClear:** TURN THE DAMN THING OFF  
 **DJellwood:** Sure. Give me at least twelve hours.  
 **CrystalClear:** afterwards i want you to violently murder the architect who designed our floor-to-ceiling windows  
 **CrystalClear:** what the actual fuck is ethan doing at his desk

 

From: Crystal Callahan <crystal.callahan@instylemag.com>  
Sent: Wednesday, April 17, 9:00 AM  
To: Ethan Myers <ethan.myers@instylemag.com>  
Subject: STOP

QUIT POUNDING THAT STAPLER LIKE THE FIVE DOLLAR PROSTITUTE YOU BOUGHT LAST NIGHT ETHAN. I AM NURSING THE WORST HANGOVER OF MY LIFE AND I AM TWO SECONDS AWAY FROM STAPLING YOUR FACE

Crystal Callahan  
InStyle Magazine

 

**DJellwood:** Is that Ethan using his stapler with more force than necessary?  
 **CrystalClear:** yes. he thinks being rough will make up for being small  
 **DJellwood:** Let's pretend I know what you're talking about.  
 **CrystalClear:** what in buddha’s name happened to me last night  
 **DJellwood:** You drank. Obviously. One would think you’d know better by now.  
 **CrystalClear:** i'm a masochist. i revel in my pain  
 **CrystalClear:** but i meant what happened after the concert  
 **CrystalClear:** HOW DID I DIE DIANA  
 **DJellwood:** Horribly, and with much embarrassment I’m afraid. An irresponsible adult introduced you to triple sec, then you spent the entire evening proclaiming your love for orange liqueur. And I quote, “I DON’T KNOW WHAT THIS SHIT IS, DI, BUT I LOVE IT AND I’M TAKING IT HOME WITH ME SO WE CAN MAKE SWEET, SWEET LOVE AND HAVE ORANGE-FLAVORED BABIES THAT I CAN DRINK.”  
 **CrystalClear:** of course I did. and our british lovers witnessed this whole debacle?  
 **DJellwood:** Oh, yes. Furthermore, you tried to eat Niall’s hair because you thought it would taste like vanilla. You cried when I wouldn’t let you take him in the car with us when we were going home. Also, you stole glow sticks from some girl’s bachelorette party and kept flashing it at your lady parts while telling Liam you were raising the bat signal.  
 **CrystalClear:** and it never occurred to you to stop me during any of this  
 **DJellwood:** Nah. I was having problems of my own. Harry kept trying to talk to me, but I couldn’t leave you alone with those poor boys.  
 **CrystalClear:** cockblocker  
 **CrystalClear:** well at least I went out with a spectacular bang. did YOU? of course you did! how many bangs?  
 **CrystalClear:** hold that thought

 

From: Crystal Callahan <crystal.callahan@instylemag.com>  
Sent: Wednesday, April 17, 9:21 AM  
To: Ethan Myers <ethan.myers@instylemag.com>  
Subject: (no subject)

I CAN HEAR YOU PURPOSEFULLY MAKING LOUD NOISES WITH YOUR ABNORMAL GORILLA HANDS. YOU ARE FOOLING NO ONE. I’M COMING FOR YOU, YOU DOUCHE NOZZLE.

Crystal Callahan  
InStyle Magazine

 

_E_Myers has signed on.  
_ **E_Myers:** Oh yeah. Come for me crystal. Ooh yes that’s it.  
 **DJellwood:** What.  
 _RachelWright has signed on.  
_ **RachelWright:** Why did I just hear Ms. Callahan yelling Ethan’s name?  
 **E_Myers:** She was coming for me.  
 _CrystalClear has signed off.  
_ **RachelWright** What is that supposed to mean?  
 **RachelWright:** Actually, don't answer that. I’m disappointed to see you mingling with the department troublemakers, Ethan.  
 **RachelWright:** Must I enforce some disciplinary action? Perhaps a scolding? You are being such a bad boy.  
 **E_Myers:** I am going away now.  
 _E_Myers has signed off.  
_ **RachelWright:** Diana, why are you still here?  
 **DJellwood:** I was just asking myself that, boss.  
 _DJellwood has signed off._  
 _RachelWright has signed off._

 

From: Ethan Myers <ethan.myers@instylemag.com>  
Sent: Wednesday, April 17, 9:26 AM  
To: Diana Ellwood <diana.ellwood@instylemag.com>  
Subject: (no subject)

Speak of this to no one. Especially Crystal.

Ethan Myers  
InStyle Magazine

 

From: Diana Ellwood <diana.ellwood@instylemag.com>  
Sent: Wednesday, April 17, 9:27 AM  
To: Ethan Myers <ethan.myers@instylemag.com>  
Subject: Re: (no subject)

My silence comes with a price, Myers.

\- DJ

 

From: Ethan Myers <ethan.myers@instylemag.com>  
Sent: Wednesday, April 17, 9:27 AM  
To: Diana Ellwood <diana.ellwood@instylemag.com>  
Subject: Re: Re: (no subject)

Take all my worldly possessions. 

Oh shit I think I hear Crystal.

Ethan Myers  
InStyle Magazine

 

From: DJ Ellwood <dianajaneellwood@hotmail.com>  
Sent: Wednesday, April 17, 8:52 PM  
To: Crystal Callahan <itscrystalclear@hotmail.com>  
Subject: Feelings and stuff…

I still can’t believe you attacked Ethan at his desk. When you came into work, you were a zombie. And not the rabid kind from 28 Days Later that ran fast. You were like a brainless undead straggling down the halls of the workplace, complete with moaning and groaning. So seeing you pounce on Ethan was like watching my own mini zombie apocalypse. It was pretty hilarious.

But that’s not what I’m emailing you about. I was hoping Curly-Haired Sex God would leave me a note, but my inbox is sadly empty of any new messages from him. He’s probably off in London now, sipping tea while shagging birds.

\- DJ

 

From: Crystal Callahan <itscrystalclear@hotmail.com>  
Sent: Wednesday, April 17, 9:16 PM  
To: DJ Ellwood <dianajaneellwood@hotmail.com>  
Subject: Re: Feelings and stuff…

Funny you say that, because I seriously considered biting off Ethan’s flesh with my teeth.

Get with the times, Di. It’s totally acceptable for women to make the first move. Make him wish he never left you alone in this big, lonely city. You should… what’s the email equivalent of sexting?

Crystal

 

From: DJ Ellwood <dianajaneellwood@hotmail.com>  
Sent: Wednesday, April 17, 9:20 PM  
To: Crystal Callahan <itscrystalclear@hotmail.com>  
Subject: Re: Re: Feelings and stuff…

Sexmail?

\- DJ

 

From: Crystal Callahan <itscrystalclear@hotmail.com>  
Sent: Wednesday, April 17, 9:21 PM  
To: DJ Ellwood <dianajaneellwood@hotmail.com>  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Feelings and stuff…

Sexmail him. Sexmail him hard.

Crystal

 

**Outlook > Mail > Folders > Drafts**

From: DJ Ellwood <dianajaneellwood@hotmail.com>  
Saved: Wednesday, April 17, 10:38 PM  
To: H. Styles <harrystyles1d@modestmanagement.com>  
Subject: Hey

How’s your part of the world doing?

It’s all good and well on my end. I almost witnessed the end of the world earlier, and my best friend would have been responsible. But that’s a story for another time. Speaking of best friend, Crystal gave me some advice about what to write to you. I’m sure you can guess what she told me to say. As fun as that conversation would be, I think I’m gonna go with my next option.

 

**The Confidential Journal of Diana Jane Ellwood**

This is stupid.

I am an English major.  
I am eloquent.  
I am articulate.  
I am a master of the written word.

So what the fuck should I say to him? 

 

**Outlook > Mail > Folders > Sent**

From: DJ Ellwood <dianajaneellwood@hotmail.com>  
Sent: Thursday, April 18, 12:04 AM  
To: H. Styles <harrystyles1d@modestmanagement.com>  
Subject: Hey

I miss you.

\- Diana

 

**Outlook > Mail > Folders > Inbox (1)**

From: H. Styles <harrystyles1d@modestmanagement.com>  
Sent: Thursday, April 18, 2:07 AM  
To: DJ Ellwood <dianajaneellwood@hotmail.com>  
Subject: Re: Hey

I miss you too.

Harry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sorely missed Crystal and Diana. Sorry for the hiatus! It's just that [insert reasonable and totally forgivable excuse here]. 
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to the following:  
> \- Sunkist orange juice, for inspiring my best friend with priceless ideas for this chapter  
> \- My best friend, for keeping this story alive and actively tweeting Harry with quotes  
> \- [SomedayBlackbird](http://archiveofourown.org/users/SomedayBlackbird/works), for kicking it in the nuts and the ass... she knows what I'm talking about
> 
> This fic would have still been in limbo without them.


End file.
